


Vulcan Keeping and Other Problems

by t_3po



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, Family, M/M, POV Outsider, Romance, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 05:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_3po/pseuds/t_3po
Summary: Where's the manual for raising nerdy young Vulcans chasing after local bad boys when you actually need it?





	Vulcan Keeping and Other Problems

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I posted this story before but deleted it then rewrote a lot of it and now it's here again one year later.  
> 2) This was inspired by ever chick lit I read when I was thirteen and my very own vodka aunt  
> 3) This is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever written

"What did you do to my child?"

Mel thinks about the weeks Spock spent with her, thinks about all the things her nephew said and did, and settles for the classic response. 

"I didn't do anything."  
  
It is, of course, a lie.

* * *

  
Mel Grayson gets the call at 0300 hours, the shrill ring of her phone rudely pulling her out of sleep. It isn’t the fault of the caller. Anyone who knows her well knows that at thirty-five she has yet to grow out of the ‘sleep is for the weak’ attitude she’d adopted the moment she was declared old enough to stay past her bedtime. Fair, she thinks while her margarita-ridden brain screams _not fair!_

Oh well.

“Mel,” and Mel immediately wakes up, all traces of sleep gone from her the moment she recognizes her older sister’s voice. Amanda only ever calls this late when she needs a favor or when she’s in trouble. The last time she’d called like this was years ago, her sister’s voice burdened with fear for the life of the unborn child in her belly. She’d called about her complicated pregnancy and Mel didn’t even know how to appease her because she’s never been pregnant herself but somehow, somehow she managed to calm her sister down because that’s what sisters do. Mel’s good at her job at being one.  
  
“It’s Spock,” Amanda continues. “Can he stay with you for a two months at least? Or maybe three? Sarek and I are going to be off-planet and we can't bring him with us.”  
  
Mel blinks. “Um.” She looks at the mess of her room—clothes strewn about, a few empty wine glasses set on the side table, a rabbit vibrator peeking out from under her bedsheet. “Um, okay,” she answers before she can think about it. Amanda thanks her profusely, says something about dropping off Spock at her doorstep before lunch, then hangs up. Mel sits there, phone in one hand, and wonders what the fuck she just got herself into.

* * *

  
Mel Grayson has no kids of her own. She and Amanda were the only girls who grew up in their cramped household: two girls and three younger boys in a house that never seemed to have enough space. All of their brothers have kids of their own and because Mel rarely ever sees them, she always forgets how many nephews and nieces she does have until another Grayson family reunion happens, the kind that always leaves her craving a glass of wine before 1730. She’s not good with kids and when asked if she’ll ever have a child, she always answers with, “I can always rent one of my siblings’ brats if I need to.”  
  
Spock, however, Mel remembers quite well seeing as how he’s her only alien nephew. She remembers him even though she only met him once when he was just a year old —Mel had nearly dropped him in surprise when his emotions had bled with hers. He hasn’t been to Earth since Amanda had shown him off to the family, hasn’t even sent so much as a birthday card to any of his human family. Mel doesn’t even know what he looks like now.

Tall, is the first thing that comes to mind when he appears at her front door later that day. Tall and gangly in the awkward way all teenagers go through.

There’s a bag in his right hand that he transfers to his left so he can greet her with what she recognizes as the ta’al. “Aunt Mel.”  
  
At first glance he looks like a younger, skinnier version of Sarek. But Mel sees her sister in him the longer she looks. The curve of his cheeks, the shape of his lips, his round brown eyes—all of them from Amanda. His eyes are more expressive than a full-blooded Vulcan’s, and Mel frowns when she spots the uncertainty in them.

Amanda explained to her that she and Sarek are needed in a planet recently added to the Federation, one whose development Vulcan is assisting. Mel understands why they couldn’t bring Spock with them but couldn’t understand why Spock needs to stay with her. At least, until she sees the unsure way he holds himself, subtle and unnoticeable to anyone who isn’t an older sibling who spent years protecting her younger siblings and teaching them how to fight for themselves. She studies him then spots it. It’s almost faded but she spots the bruise under her nephew’s right eye. The bruise and the way he holds himself piece together a story that Mel’s all too familiar with.

Amanda’s reasoning for letting her son stay with an aunt he doesn't even know becomes even clearer when, the first thing Spock says upon entering her home is, “I assure you that I will do my best not to disturb your daily activities. My presence will not be a bother to you.”

“You’re a teenager, you’re supposed to be bothersome at that age,” Mel tells him. “Do whatever you want.” But Spock only looks at her, perplexed. “You know…be messy, stay out late, do whatever,” she suggests but Spock merely shakes his head. Inwardly, Mel sighs.

 

“He’s a nerd.” She hears Amanda squawk indignantly on the other end of line. The reception is too weak to have them holo chat and her sister’s voice is choppy, but Mel can imagine the outraged expression on Amanda’s face. She’s seen it often enough that she knows it like the back of her hand.

“Mel! This is my son you’re talking about!” she doesn’t really sound angry which means Amanda knows her son well, has probably more than once made comparisons between her son and the boys they knew when they were younger, the ones who’d always get shoved in closets and lockers by the bigger boys. In a way it’s funny that Spock is like that when he’s a Vulcan who lives among Vulcans, probably the biggest nerds in the Federation. It stops being funny when she thinks more about it and comes up with the harsh truth that Spock’s being bullied for his hybrid status.

“He doesn’t act like a regular teenager.”

“He’s a _Vulcan_.”

“Who’s half-human. And no it’s not just that he’s a Vulcan. I know Vulcans, heck I met your husband. They’re arrogant pricks oozing with confidence—Amanda, please, you have to admit Sarek’s a bit of a prick. Spock’s not like that. It’s like…it’s like he’s afraid to occupy space.”

Amanda is silent and Mel knows that she’s won. “He refuses to open up to me. Spock’s ashamed of his human side…He gets mocked for it daily by his peers and he’s getting older. I don’t know how to reach him anymore.”

“Oh, Amanda.” Mel laughs. “That’s why you brought him here, remember? I’ll get him to open up.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s easier said than done.

She realizes later on that she was severely underestimating when she called Spock a nerd. He's the king of nerds. All he ever does in her house is stay locked in the guest room, either meditating or typing away on his PADD.

And a little nerdy is good. A little nerdy is cute, even. But combine nerdiness and what seems to be Spock’s determination to live like a hermit when he's nineteen-years-old and should be enjoying life when he's that young—then it’s just ridiculous!

 Let him be, let him be, she tells herself over and over again every time after dinner when Spock quietly makes his way back to his room.

 She snaps in the end.

 It takes four days of self-restraint before she’s shoving Spock in her car and driving down to one of the few dive bars in town. “Where are we going?” Spock asks. He looks a little alarmed which Mel doesn’t admonish him for because she did just order him to wear his tightest pants, then unceremoniously put an old boyfriend’s leather jacket on him then pushed him in the passenger seat of her car without saying anything.  

“A bar,” she tells him. “You need _friends_. Or at least meet people your own age—no don’t give me that ‘but I’m a Vulcan’ crap. If bars aren’t your thing then that’s fine but it’s the only place I know where young people like meeting other young people. Besides, I need a drink.”

 “I am not legally old enough to consume alcohol or enter such an establishment.”

 “You're in the south, sweetie. No one gives a shit.”

 It’s already crowded when they get there. Spock already looks uncomfortable and his eyes keep darting toward the exit points. Mel clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Go make friends,” she tells him, shoving him to the dance floor before heading to the bar without another look back.

 She's supposed to be keeping an eye on him and for the first ten minutes she does. But it gets boring fast because Spock’s just standing there with the same pinched look on his face that reminds her way too much of Sarek. And then she sees three of her friends who join her, and then four cocktails later, she almost forgets that she brought Spock along until she looks at her watch and sees the time.

 It's nearing midnight.

 “Shit,” she mutters. “I have to go, ladies. Gotta get my little Cinerella back home before he turns into a pumpkin.”

She looks to where Spock was standing. He isn't there anymore. She cranes her neck and tries to find him but sees no pointy ears or weird bowl cut anywhere.

Shit.

Amanda would never forgive her if she lost her kid. Sarek would probably have her arrested. Or worse. He’d probably perform a mind meld on her and make her spill all her dark secrets. Not that she doesn't alreay spill most of them after one bottle of cognac but it's the thought of privacy that counts.

Mel scrunches her eyes and racks her brains. Where would a skinny, nerdy Vulcan with no survival skills in the human world go?

“Aunt Mel.”

Oh thank fucking chocolate-covered Jesus on a stick.

 “There you are! I was looking all over for you,” she exclaims, a little too enthusiastically perhaps, but there's no need for Spock to know that she wasn't watching over him properly.

 Spock nods. She can't tell properly because of the lights but she thinks he might be a little flushed. So maybe he did drink after all. Strange, Mel muses. She didn't seem him go anywhere near the bar.

 “Did you have any fun? Did you make any new friends?”

 Spock nods. Then shakes his head. Then nods again.

 Weird kid. But Mel decides not to dwell on it. Spock looks like he enjoyed going out, or at least, as much as he's allowed to look like he enjoyed himself without breaking the whole ‘we're above emotions’ Vulcan thing.

 “It was quite a fascinating experience,” Spock admits and Mel grins, triumphant.

 

* * *

 

 Apparently it really was a fascinating experience.

 Because the next time Mel tells him she's going to another bar, Spock gets up then meekly asks if he can accompany her.

 “You meeting some friends?”

 “...yes”

 At first, she's okay with it. Pleased even, because at least he's no longer holed up in his room. But then she gets suspicious. He disappears as soon as they enter the bar and always reappears looking at little like someone short-circuited his brain. He starts coming home later than her as well. And he's always texting. Mel’s half-tempted to just snatch his phone out of his hand and read his texts.

 “Sounds like your nephew’s exchanging dick pics with someone,” Tonya says. She peers at Mel’s reflection, her scissors hanging dangerously close to Mel’s ear. She inches away from it. “He's gay, isn't he? You better tell that boy he shouldn't be using just any old app to send nudes. There’s a really good one that ensures your security and—”

 “Tonya,” Mel cuts her off because she can't imagine it at all. “I'm pretty sure he's not sending dick pics”

Mel finally gets her answer when she catches Spock rifling through her collection of vintage magazines. She dimisses it at first, thinks that he's just looking at her National Geographics, when the pink script of Cosmopolitan flashes at her. She yelps then tears it out of his hands. "Not that! Why are you reading that?"  
  
"For research."  
  
"What research could you possibly get from here? All of the advice here is bullshit," Mel says. There's a dog-eared page in the magazine that she flips to and—  
  
How to Get a Boy to Notice You screams at her in bold white letters.  
  
"Research."  
  
Spock clears his throat. He's trying to look dignified but his face is turning green from embarrassment. "Affirmative," he says but he isn't looking at her anymore. Something in the way he's looking at his hands, the way they keep opening and closing in nervousness brings back a memory. A younger Amanda, nervous but also breathless with excitement as she talked to her about a charming Vulcan she'd met.  
  
Oh, Mel thinks, remembering that tiny almost non-existent smile on his face that morning during breakfast.  
  
"So. Who is it?"  
  
Spock doesn't bite. "What do you mean?"  
  
Mel rolls her eyes at that. "Kid, I'm an older sister, I gave your uncles the talk the moment they turned thirteen and I was also the first person your mother talked to when she said she'd started dating your dad. I know what I'm talking about when I say that you're crushing on someone hard and this is a small town so I know everyone. Spock, I wanna know who the person is who's got you smiling at your phone and reading my old Cosmopolitans in the middle of the night."  
  
A beat, a stubborn glare. And then.  
  
"His name is Jim."  
  
There are several Jims in town but Mel immediately knows who he's talking about. Blond hair, blue eyes, a cocky grin. Great, she thinks. Of all the people for Spock to become interested in, her nephew gets a crush on the local bad boy.  
  
She turns to the kitchen and Spock follows her. "This is not an issue you should concern yourself with," he says, trying for a defiant air but Mel can clearly hear the 'please do not inform my father of my shameful display of human emotion' underneath it.  
  
"Oh believe me, kid, it is." She finds what she's looking for in the cupboard—two wine glasses and an unopened bottle of chocolate liquor—then turns to Spock who raises and eyebrow at the items.  
  
"Now, tell me your story."

 

* * *

  
  
Mel's halfway through her third glass and Spock's just finished his first when she thinks that it's probably not a good idea to get your reserved, still technically underage in the alcohol world nephew drunk enough to get him to tell you all about his big gay crush. But Spock’s a lightweight and he was already getting tipsy halfway through his first glass so if Mel has any regrets it's way too late to change things. And Spock drunk is entertaining.

 His eyes get wide, pupils dilated like a cat’s, and he won't stop _talking_. Mel’s tempted to record him, post it on YouTube for all the world to see. Young Drunk Vulcan Being Gay and In Love.

 It would get a million hits.

 “His eyes…his eyes are so blue,” Spock says. He's moving his hands, his drink threatening to spill everywhere. “And his hair is so golden. I have never seen hair that golden before.”

 “You can always just google a random white guy,” Mel says wryly. “Blond hair isn't that uncommon.”

 “On Vulcan it is.” He tries to look at her with superiority but his eyes are getting hazy and unfocused.

 “You're not sending him dick pics, are you?”

 “What precisely is a ‘dick pic’?”

 She scrolls through his phone when Spock finally falls asleep on the sofa after his fourth glass. She knows a little bit about Kirk. He sure has a reputation among the teenagers in town, so when she opens their messages, she's expecting douchebag selfies or texts full of tongue emojis. And a dick pic. She can't not expect that.

 But what she finds are poems. Lots of them sent from Kirk’s phone.

 She blinks, surprised. She hadn't expected that. She'd always assumed he was kind of dumb. The stay out of school, kick ass, smoke weed kind of dumb who'd never pick up a book in his life.

 But then, she supposes Spock would never be attracted to a dumb guy. Even if he does look good.

 She opens one of the poems and raises on eyebrow when she reads it.

 

 

> I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair  
>  Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets  
>  Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day  
>  I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

 

Not a dick pic then.

 An erotic poem.

 Jim Kirk is sending her nerdy nephew erotic poems. 

She can't help it—she laughs.

 Well, this sure is new.

 

* * *

 

 

She should tell Amanda.

 When they were younger, they’d laughed at their brothers’ attempts to get girlfriends, making bets on who of the triplets would get a girl first. But she doesn’t because Spock is different and naïve and he doesn't get humans at all. And Mel’s positive that were she to tell Amanda that her son is crushing hard on a boy with a bad reputation, she’d whisk him away and never let Spock set foot in Iowa again.

 Which would be a shame.

 She's kind of liking his company.

 He’s opening up to her now, bit by bit and Mel’s more than happy to talk to him about her own experiences when she was his age. His eyes will widen as she talks and though he doesn't always have his PADD present, she knows he's mentally taking notes.

 Sometimes he just asks her things. Mostly innocent questions. Mostly questions about boys. About dating. About kissing.

 “Have you kissed, Jim?” she asks before he can ask her about something else.

 He freezes then turns green. He always does that whenever it's her turn to ask the questions. “He is not interested in that kind of activity with me,” he says and the little sad voice he says it in is bordering on pathetic.

 “Honey,” Tonya says. She rakes her fingers through his hair once more. Tonya had immediately latched onto Spock when Mel brought him to her usual salon. She claims Vulcan hair is the best in the Federation. “If he's sending you dick pics, that pretty much means he's interested in kissing. Not just on the mouth.”

 Spock frowns. “He is not sending me pictures of his genitalia.”

 “Not even shirtless pics? I've seen that boy around and for a nineteen-year-old he is a _snack_.”

 “He does not send me pictures of himself unclothed.”

 “But you want him to, don't you, honey?”

 Spock doesn't reply to that but he turns greener which is pretty much ‘yes, I would very much like to see my crush’s penis, thanks’.

 “He's not sending him dick pics,” Mel says. “He’s sending him _erotic poetry_.”

 “Oh honey! You got yourself a fine, fine man there. How can you think that he doesn't wanna kiss you when he's sending you E.E fucking Cummings and crap like that?”

 Spock does his Vulcan version of a shrug which means his shoulders only move a tiny bit. But he's not fooling anyone. Mel can see that tiny, pleased smile on his face again.

 

* * *

 

 

Mel should have seen it coming. Or maybe she just wasn't expecting things to get that far. She doesn't know what Jim and Spock do when they're out, but Mel always guessed that it's just harmless nerdy stuff like talking about books or computers. Even if Jim is sending her nephew erotic poetry because Spock’s a proper little Vulcan who follows his dad around like a puppy and still needs his mom and even if he did like Jim, he’d never start anything. He'd never dare to.

 But when Spock starts wearing turtlenecks and scarves even though it's summer, she gets suspicious. Hell she practically trips over her own feet when she passes by his room and hears him listening to some kind of porn video.

 Stupid kid, she thinks, shaking her head.

 Headphones exist for a reason!

 What finally gets her decided to confront him is when she realizes that he's stopped asking her questions. He still listens to her stories but he doesn't ask for tips anymore. It's almost offensive.

 When he comes home at three am, Mel’s ready for him, dressed in her bathrobe with a glass of red wine in one hand. She should have brought Tonya along for this, she thinks regretfully. She loves talking about boys.

 He jumps a little upon seeing her standing there. Outside, they hear the roar of Jim’s motorcycle as it speeds away.

 “You've been making out with him, haven't you?” she teases. “Sneaking away. Don't think I haven't noticed. What will your mom say when she picks you up and sees all those hickeys on your neck?”

 Spock won't look at her. He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck. Looks at the floor. Then—

 “I slept with Jim.”

 “What?!” She sets her glass down then immediately runs and grabs him, dragging him and pushing at him until he's settled on the sofa beside her. “Tell me about it!”

 She didn't expect Spock to go _that_ far.

 She's a little excited, a little proud because of Spock’s achievement, but at the same time she's thinking Amanda will probably kill her for allowing her precious baby boy to lose his virginity to some random Iowan boy. And Sarek would die of a heart attack probably. Mel knows he has visions of Spock following in his footsteps and marrying a very logical Vulcan girl and having tons of little logical Vulcan babies.

 Dumb Vulcan probably doesn't even know his son is gay.

 Spock taps his fingers on his knees, and Mel waits a little impatiently for him to get on with it. His face is green when he finally looks at her. “Losing one’s virginity is different on Vulcan… In human standards, does it count if you only…” He stops then looks at her helplessly.

 “If you only what? What did you do? Please tell me you used condoms.”

 He looks around, eyes searching for something. Mel doesn't get why Spock suddenly grabs a banana from the fruit bowl on the coffee table. “What? God, Spock, just spill it.”

 He doesn't. Instead he peels the banana halfway, then awkwardly sticks it in his mouth, and oh okay now Mel gets it.

 “YES IT STILL COUNTS EVEN IF YOU JUST GIVE HIM A BLOWJOB,” she yells. Spock visibly cringes at the word ‘blow job’ and Mel snorts.

 “Spock, shoving a banana in your mouth just to tell me you sucked dick is more embarrassing than actually saying the words, you know?”

 Spock removes the banana and shoots her a sour look.

 “So did you also lose your Vulcan V Card?”

 “We did not meld during the encounter therefore...it does not count.”

 “Okay, Human V Card’s the only one that was swiped then. Tell me you didn't do it at a public restroom.”

 “...is the back of his pickup truck a more acceptable location?”

 “Well, yes, but it's still not classy.”

 “You told me you lost your virginity at the football field,” Spock says, voice flat. He has a point there, Mel thinks.

 She pats his arm. “Yes but you’re the son of an ambassador and of my sister. You deserve like…a hotel room. With roses on the bed. And champagne. And a playlist of erotic classical music playing in the background. Like Careless Whisper.”

 “I was not aware those were necessary when having sex.” He's clearly sassing her. Mel’s gotten good at knowing when he's being a little shit.

 “Just because you got in a guy’s pants tonight, doesn't mean you can start acting like a little shit around me, sweetie.”

 She flicks his ear and he grimaces, inching away from her.

 “They're not important. Flowers, hotel room, Careless Whisper. I was just joking. Did he get you off as well? Because that's what's important and if he didn't, then sweetie, he's no good for you.”

 Spock’s turning green again. Mel really doesn't understand him. Boy will willingly stick something phallic in his mouth right in front of her but he can't talk about it without turning green like a Christmas tree. How do Vulcans even have sex ed? Mel remembers Amanda telling her that Sarek clams up the moment she makes a green joke.

 How do they even have sex?

 Must be good if Amanda’s still keeping Sarek around. Like...is Sarek even good for anything aside from money and power?

 “He—” Spock stops himself again, then leans forward until his mouth is right next to her ear. Mel doesn't bother telling him that there's no one to hear them. Spock seems determined to just whisper it all away.

 “Did you at least use lube? No, he shouldn't just be using his mouth for that—oh okay you used lube. Condoms? You wrote a baby thesis on safe sex but you still blew him in his pickup truck—Spock, you're such a dirty little—Okay condoms.  Okay good, good I don't want to bring you back to Vulcan with an STD. Your dad will murder me.”

 He opens his mouth to reply but all that comes out is a yawn. “Okay, buddy, time for you to go to bed,” she says. “I think that's enough excitement for tonight.”

 Too much excitement, if she's being honest. But he's nineteen and youth slips faster than you think, so she leaves him alone. He'll be fine.

 It's just a summer fling.

 

* * *

 

 

Except—

 “Jim asked me out on a date,” Spock says hurriedly. He looks around, clearly paranoid about being overheard. Mel rolls her eyes. No one gives a damn about people’s love lives at eight in the morning at a grocery store.

 Well maybe except Phil. She peers from behind the shelf to check if the weird guy who does the restocking is there but there's no sign of him.

 “No Phil?”

 “No Phil,” she assures Spock.

 “So you won't be staying for dinner? You should know that I make a mean vegetable casserole.”

 “I'm afraid I cannot attend your dinner party.”

 “God, Spock.” She snorts. “Calling it a dinner party makes it sound so formal. It's just me and some friends hanging out and talking shit about people at work. It's more like...a Congregation of Bitches. Say it with me now. Congregation of Bitches.”

 “Congregation of Bitches,” Spock says keeping his face blank but Mel can detect the hint of amusement in his voice. She cracks up.

 “Yeah. That. Do you need any help with this date?”

 He hasn't asked her for help in days but this time he nods. “I do not know what is the proper behavior or attire for this situation.”

 “Where's he taking you?”

 “A showing of old films at the movie house.” Spock frowns. “Jim is fond of illogical and innacurate science fiction films. He wishes to see this movie called Blade Runner. He has seen it thrice already but he wants me to watch it as well.”

 “Never heard of it.”

 Spock does his version of a shrug again. “Do I need to know details of this film?” he asks, worry slipping into his voice.

 “Nope. Listen, sweetie, if he's asking you to a movie you really don't have to do anything but sit there and cuddle with him. And if he’s seen the movie before, then that definitely means he's just bringing you there for cuddling sessions. Or.”

 She motions to the green mark on his neck. Spock claps his hand over it.

 “Or he's going to want to add another one of those to his collection. You should really tell Jim to ease off with the teeth. It's not turtleneck season and it looks like you've been chomped on by a very enthusiastic vampire.”

 Spock makes no comment on that but he raises his eyebrow which Mel interprets as ‘but I like Jim’s vampiric tendencies.’

 “What should I wear?”

 “Just go for casual. Cute and comfortable and you can be sexy but not too sexy. This isn't a fancy dinner date and popcorn stains are awful to get rid of. Got it?”

 Spock nods. He already knows what she means. Mel spent a day sorting through his wardrobe, categorizing his clothes into what’s cool and appropriate for his age without fully removing the nerd chic thing he has going on, and what’s not cool and should only be worn at home. And also throwing out all the ugly old man clothes he should stay away from until he's well into his fifties.

 He has no problem in Vulcan attire. He's stylish in that, practically model material. But Vulcans (and really it's all Vulcans, not just Spock) are hopeless when it comes to dressing like humans.

 “Wear that Vulcan bomber jacket thing you have. The one with the lion thing on the back. It makes you look desirable but like also unavailable.”

 “Noted.”

 “How is this your first date anyway?” She asks. “You've been hanging out with Jim since you got here and I know you've been having sex with him since last week. Where do you guys usually go when you're out with him.”

 “The fields.” Mel wrinkles her nose in distate but Spock ignores her. “The stars are quite visible there. Jim…he likes looking at the stars. We can see Vulcan from there when the sky is bright.”

 “Hmm.”

 That sounds a little romantic. Almost…serious. The nostalgia in Spock’s eyes tells Mel that he wants it to be serious.

 But she has her doubts about Jim. She's never ever met the boy. The closest Jim’s ever been to her house is at the driveway, every time he drops Spock off. And he's been sending him poems, sure, but Mel read some of those poems and they might not be dick pics but they're pretty much invitations to sex.

 They're intellectual dick pics.

 She wonders, not for the first time, if she should warn Spock not to think too much about what he has with Jim.

 He's only been here for a little over two months. Surely he can't be thinking he and Jim are true love, especially when Spock keeps coming home with dirt on his knees and mussed hair.

 Mel was nineteen as well once. She had that kind of experience. All sex and smoke and late night drinking. But she never once believed it was love with all the boys in her life. It was just fun. Learning from each other.

 Surely, she thinks, he knows it's not logical to fall in love that fast.

 But there's too much happiness in his eyes that Mel can't bring herself to speak her thoughts out loud. So she settles for what she's good at.

 Teasing him.

 “You fucked in the cornfield, didn't you?”

 Spock pretends to be interested in a box of oatmeal which pretty much confirms that they defiled the cornfield. Mel glances at the display of freshly grown corn and sighs.

 She's never making cornbread again.

 

* * *

 

 She gets the call at 2320.

 She's just getting ready to clear the dishes and bring out the wine when her phone rings. “I'll get it,” Marge says. She peers at the screen then hands it to Mel. “It’s your baby nephew.”

 She frowns. Spock never calls her.

 “Aunt Mel,” he says and the formality in his voice makes her pause. He hasn't used that cold, unreachable tone with her in weeks.

 Her instincts kick in, screaming at her that something is wrong.

 “Is it possible for you to pick me up...But if it's too bothersome I can just—”

 “No. No sweetie, I'm coming to get you,” she says quickly. “Where are you?”

 He's standing in front of the movie house when she gets there. “Did you see the movie?” she asks cautiously, a few minutes after he gets in her car. He's quiet, facing out the window. Mel bites her lip. “Spock? Sweetie, what's wrong.”

 “Jim did not show up.”

  _That little shit!_

 "I tried contacting him but he wasn't answering his phone and—” He takes in a shaky breath. “A man called my number. Jim borrowed my phone once to contact someone. He was looking for Jim and he…” Spock swallows. “He said he was looking for Jim because his girlfriend was going into labor.”

 Mel grips the steering wheel hard.

 She’s going to _murder_ Jim Kirk.

 Spock finally looks at her. He's devastated. Openly devasted, no Vulcan mask softening the intensity of his emotions.

 Mel can't take it.

 She stops the car then quickly gathers him in her arms, ignoring the small sound of protest he makes. She's furious with Jim. With Spock even, for believing that boy. Fuck she's furious with Amanda and Sarek and herself as well.

 A lonely young Vulcan on his first time on earth? Of course he wouldn't be logical. Of course he wouldn't just think about casual relationships. Of course he'd make stupid decisions. Being Vulcan doesn't mean you're immune from making terrible choices when you're nineteen.

 One of them should have told him that you can have your fun but you’re never supposed to fall in love with boys like Jim Kirk.

 “I was…I was thinking that I would like him to be my bethroted. Replaced T’Pring who also does not like our parents’ decision to pair us off. But I suppose that was ridiculous. Humans are fickle and—and I should have—I should have—”

 “No.” She pulls away to look at him. “No,” she says fiercely. “You don't get to demean yourself because of that boy. He's not worth it.”

 Spock looks like he's about to protest but then miraculously he nods. “Thank you.”

 “Now then. What would you like to do?” She hooks her arm around his shoulders. “You wanna hang out and drive around or do you wanna go home? The girls are still there and if there's one thing your pseudo aunts are good at it, it's helping you get over scum.”

 “The latter,” he says, finally allowing that tiny smile to appear on his face.

 She puts on Kelly Clarkson as they drive home. Just because.

 

* * *

 

 She doesn't expect him to get over it in a night. Spock really loved that boy for some reason Mel will probably never understand. But he mopes for a week while also pretending that he isn't moping. He keeps making sad eyes at his phone, waiting for it to ring and no amount of Dua Lipa’s “New Rules” can get him to stop.

 Which sucks. It's a classic. Classical music should work.

 He's started locking himself in his room again. Mel sighs and mostly leaves him alone. Break ups are messy and Mel’s experienced in helping people get over break ups but broken-hearted Vulcans are hard to crack and she's a little bit out of her element in this one. She has no idea what she's going to say to Spock’s parents when she brings him back while he's wearing that sad, ‘poor me’ face.

 Again, she thinks, they'll probably kill her for ruining their kid.

 She’s wondering whether or not a trip to the museum will get him to cheer up when she hears the roar of a motorcycle coming up her driveway, followed by a sharp knock on the door. Mel blinks.

 He wouldn't _dare_.

 “Hi.”

 Blond hair, blue eyes, athletic body wrapped in tight jeans and a leather jacket. Every local teenager’s dream. Mel raises one eyebrow.

 What the fuck is Jim Kirk doing at her doorstep?

 And with a fucking bouquet of flowers in his hand?

 “Don't try that Hollywood ready smile at me, mister,” she snaps. The smile falls off Jim’s face. “What are you doing here?”

 “I...I came here to see Spock?” He looks around a little unsurely.

 Mel raises her head a little higher. She's shorter than Jim Kirk but she's an older sister—she's had practice intimidating stupid kids who hurt her younger siblings. It works. Jim seems to shrink a little under her death glare. 

“You have no right to be here after breaking his heart like that.”

 The sheepish look on Jim’s face disappears. “I broke his heart?” he says, dumbfounded. He blinks, stares at her. Mel can practically see little question marks floating around his head.

 “You know what you did.”

 “Oh. Oh! You mean last week? I have a good reason I swear! I forgot our date but I swear it was an emergency.”

 “Yeah because your girlfriend was giving birth. How long have you been using my nephew as your side hoe you little prick.”

 Jim’s mouth falls open. “I don't have a girlfriend! And I never got anyone pregnant!”

 “Then who was that man who called Spock to tell him your girlfriend was giving birth?!”

 Jim scowls. “That wasn't—She’s not my girlfriend! She's my friend’s girlfriend! Bones—his landlord is senile and keeps switching our identities in his head. I called him one time using Spock’s phone to tell me when Jocelyn’s about to go into labor because Bones works all day and he gets distracted and doesn't always have his phone with him because he's stupid with technology—like caveman stupid when it comes to phones even though we're in the 23rd century and he denies it—but anyway whatever this is a case of mistaken identity I swear I wasn't thinking straight when I drove to Georgia and I dropped my phone on the way and I don't have his number memorized so even though I got a new phone I couldn't call him.”

 He stops and takes a deep breath. Looks at Mel, waiting.

 She purses her lips. “You expect me to believe that? I know what you're like, kid.

“What?”

 “You sleep around. I should never have let Spock get anywhere near you.”

 “Fucking hell!” Jim throws his hands up. A few petals scatter to the floor. He looks pissed and he mutters a swear under his breath. “Fuck no why does everyone think I'm a slag? I've never even cheated on anyone!”

 He pulls out a brand new looking phone out of his pocket then shows her a picture. It's of Jim perched on the edge of a hospital bed where a young woman is resting with a bundle in her arms. A man who only looks a little bit older than Jim has his arm around the young woman. Jim swipes the screen and a picture of the baby appears. The kid has the same furrowed brow as the young man from before.

 Oh.  

 “...I see.”

 “Yeah. So I know what I did was really shitty but it wasn't because I was playing around. Please.” He’s giving her puppy eyes now, making his eyes wider and somehow bluer and brighter than they actually are. “I really want to see him.”

 “Okay, fine,” she mutters. He grins then steps forward but Mel halts him with a hand on his shoulder. She grips if hard, her fingernails digging deep info his skin.

 “But listen you little shit. You never showed your face here until now so I'm going to take this opportunity to say that if you hurt Spock like that again, I won't hesitate to shove my heels up your asshole then call all my friends to have them shove their heels up there as well.  And he's the son of an ambassador, remember that. Vulcans aren't always peace-loving, especially when one of their own gets hurt by horny little country boys.”

 She moves her hand to the crook of his neck, fingers poised to where she knows one pinch can have him collapse in a heap at her feet. Spock taught her that and he must have taught Jim what it means as well because his eyes widen in fear. He swallows then nods.

 “I promise. I won't pull a stunt like that again. I…” He pauses and his eyes go soft,  a small smile making its way to his lips. “I really like him.”

 “It's only been two months.”

 “I know,” Jim says and the way he says it, a little breathless, a little proud, startles Mel. She studies him for a moment then heads to Spock’s room.

 “Sweetie, Jim’s here.”

 The door opens a crack and a sliver of Sad Vulcan appears. “I do not wish to see him.”

 “You should.” She opens the door wider. “I think he has a whole speech ready for you. And he brought flowers. _Flowers_ , Spock. Who does that in the 23rd century?”

 The corner of Spock’s mouth twitches. “I once told him few flowers grow on Vulcan. They're an illogical gift.”

 “True but he's a traditional romantic.” Mel rolls her eyes but she's grinning. “Come on, sweetie. Give your Aunt Mel a chance to see a real life romcom ufold before my eyes.”

 He tries a glare but she can see the tiny hope in his eyes. “Very well, then.”

 Jim’s sitting on the sofa when they return to the living room but he immediately stands up upon seeing Spock. “Hi,” he greets, eyes lighting up and a dopey grin appearing on his face. He blinks, looks at his hand, then quickly hands Spock the flowers. “I know they're not very practical but bear with me.”

 Mel looks at the wonder in Jim’s face. If she'd seen that earlier, she wouldn't have had doubts about this.

 Spock looks over his shoulder at her. His eyes flick to Jim. _Well?_

 She nods.

  _This one’s a keeper_.

 

* * *

 

 

The romcom thing, as it turns out, isn't as fun as it is in real life. At least, it’s not if you're not one of the main characters.

 Mel slams down on the horn for the third time. Again, they don't pay attention to her.

 God, they're going to be late!

 She rolls down the window then sticks her head out and yells, “Spock get your skinny ass here right now! Your parents are landing soon.”

 “Five more minutes,” Spock says without even looking at her. He's currently leaning against Jim, their hands intertwined. Jim’s stroking one of his hands and whispering something to Spock and Mel bets her ass it's another one of Jim’s King Solomon type poems because it's got Spock turning the color of a green bean again.

 “I'll visit you as soon as I finish working at the garage,” Jim says. His smile turns wicked. “So you better tell your parents about us or they're going to get the surprise of their lives when I turn up and kiss you in front of them.”

 “Such public displays of affection are frowned upon on Vulcan.”

 “Hmmm do you really care about that?”

 “Perhaps I can make an exception for you.”

 “SPOCK! ENOUGH OF YOUR CHEESY ROMCOM LINES ALREADY. GET IN THE CAR NOW!”

 Spock glares at her but finally Jim relents and gives Spock one last movie type kiss. Inwardly, Mel gags.“See you soon, baby. Take care,” Jim says and with one last wave, he speeds off on his motorcycle.

 Spock enters the car.

 “Finally! Wipe your mouth—you've got country boy saliva all over you.”

 “I do not.” But he wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket anyway.

 Jim’s leather jacket.

 “You know your parents are going to ask who that jacket belongs to.”

 “I know.”

 “So you're going to tell them?”

 “Yes.”

 “Sarek’s going to have a heart attack.”

 Spock does his tiny smirk again. “He'll be surprised, yes.”

 Mel laughs. She ruffles his hair with one hand, ignoring his protests. “You really grew up here, kid. Look at you. Dating bad boys and standing up to your dad. Who knew a few months in Iowa would make you bloom like this?”

 “I did not expect this either.” He smiles at her. An open, human smile. Mel readies the camera in her head,presses the button and saves that smile in her mind. “Thank you.”

 “Anytime, sweetie. Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Jim sent Spock is Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos and comments if you like.


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